Never an Absolution
by XTaLoNX
Summary: I tried my darndest not to make this a Legomance...oh well. Please rr.
1. The Journey Begins

Ifran placed a bridle over a bay horse's head, gently easing the bit into his mouth and buckling the throatlatch. She led the horse, named Quasar, out of the stables and into the courtyard, where Legolas waited for her with both of their packs. Taking her own pack upon her shoulders, Ifran mounted Quasar and helped Legolas up behind her. They spoke no words as they cantered out of the courtyard and past the gates of Mirkwood. They were silent as Quasar lengthened his stride and galloped over the rolling hills carpeted in a sea of green grass, hopped over dry ditches and lifted his legs high when crossing shallow fords.  
They rode far west until at last the sun was halfway into the horizon. They found a good place to stop and made camp there, turning Quasar loose to search for food and water and roam freely. As Ifran started a fire, Legolas came behind her and placed a hand upon her shoulder as the tinder caught a few sparks and began to blaze into larger pieces of wood. She looked up at him with a small smile, which he returned. They shared a brief yet tender kiss before moving on to prepare dinner.  
This is how it was for three days: riding quickly yet unhurried by day, stopping to rest at night. Their journey's purpose was simple - to allow Ifran and Legolas to grow closer away from the distractions of the real world, to seek seclusion and simply rest in the pleasantries of nature's beauty and of each other.  
Quasar never tired, though the riding was often at a quick gallop and there weren't many halts. He seemed to have an endless storage of energy within him, never stumbling along his trek, never letting his passengers fall. Though his mahogany pelt shone with sweat and his mouth foamed, dripping onto his chest and forelimbs, he would not slacken until Ifran willed him to do so. Besides, this was what he was bred and born for: to run all day, even with a heavy burden upon his back, and carry the burden willingly and safely until nightfall. Even if he were to run into the night, he would not stop unless his master issued it. In Legolas and Ifran is where Quasar's trust lay, and he lay it gladly.  
  
The sights all three came upon were amazing as the lands grew hillier and steeper, allowing them views of entire valleys, waterfalls, rivers, and clearings. It was early autumn, and the trees had just started turning their different colors. Forests of green slowly melted into forests of orange, red, and yellow, with some still retaining their emerald hue as if to hold onto the last bit of summer while it could. The grasses were slowly starting to brown and become fields of gold. The streams and rivers grew ever chillier, cold droplets spilling onto the exposed necks and faces of the Elves, and providing brief relief for Quasar's hot pelt.  
The nights were peaceful, always clear and cold and filled with stars, which Ifran and Legolas would stare at for hours, just talking quietly between themselves while a warm fire burned nearby. Their beauty was unmatched by any other thing of nature, they had agreed. So simple and yet profound, the stars were a great work of art, and worthy of their attention.  
And so for three days, the Elves made their journey westwards in peace, with no trouble from patrolling Orcs, as they'd been warned were about. But it would all change on the fourth day, and for days to come, for the both of them. 


	2. First Attack

The fourth day was just like any other. When it was nearly mid-day, Ifran halted Quasar and she and Legolas began to set up for a quick lunch before riding off again. The horse was turned loose but did not stray far. He knew he would be needed soon enough. As Ifran began to eat, Legolas stopped and froze, lifting his head, his gray eyes transfixed on some unseen object. Noticing this, Ifran stopped as well, following his gaze, but there was nothing to be seen, save for the forest they'd just come out of. She strained her ears and tried to peer further in the forest, but still nothing. Ifran glanced at Legolas nervously, starting to put the things away. If there was danger, she did not want to have to be delayed anymore than necessary.  
Legolas stayed in that position, crouched, unblinking, ever listening and watching. Ifran called Quasar to her. The bay was acting nervously, shying and throwing half-rears. He allowed himself to be bridled again and stood still as Ifran grabbed her pack and mounted, watching Legolas warily.  
After a moment, Legolas jumped to his feet and sprang onto Quasar behind Ifran. "Orcs! Mounted Orcs!" he said softly in Ifran's ear. She turned back to look at him in surprise, and was reassured with a firm nod from the prince of Mirkwood. Facing forward, she urged Quasar to run with all speed he could possibly muster. As they sprang away, they all heard the sound of hooves, and then the sound of tearing foliage as the Orc band shot out of the forest. Quasar issued a shrill neigh of challenge and hurried on, driven by the fearful scent of the Orcs. The mounted enemy waved their weapons high in the air, shouting out war cries and taunts to the fleeing Elves. Ifran gave Quasar his rein and glanced behind her shoulder. They were beginning to gain. Legolas gently yet firmly had her face forward again.  
"Do not look back, Ifran! They want to see your fear. Do not give them the satisfaction!"  
Ifran never looked behind her again as the chase wore on.  
  
Quasar never slackened his pace, only increased when the sound of thudding hooves of the Orc horses grew too near, too loud. Over hills and across streams they ran, horses of neither side tiring. Ifran was growing desperate for an escape, but Legolas kept encouraging her that they would, somehow.  
As he looked ahead and strained with his Elf eyes, he quickly realized they were coming upon a steep hill, a very steep hill. It was almost a cliff, and nearly straight down. Yet what choice did they have? As he relayed the news to Ifran, he felt her stiffen in fear.  
"Do not fear, Ifran. Quasar will pull us through. The Orcs will not be able to follow us."  
Quasar seemed to pick up the news and charged full throttle at the ever-nearing slope. Hoof beats echoed in the minds of the Elves as they felt Quasar lift off from level ground and lengthen his stride, racing down the hill with such a speed and yet careful skill that the descent was over before they all knew it. As the bay touched upon the bottom, Ifran allowed him a few more running strides before halting to look back up at the monstrous slope they'd just conquered. Orc riders stood at the top, sneering and hissing, yet dumbfounded by this incredible feat.  
Ifran, however, was not feeling as triumphant as Legolas. Closing her eyes to stop the dizziness, she swooned and would have fallen from Quasar had not Legolas caught her in time. 


	3. Night Walk

Legolas kept watch over Ifran for a few days, not allowing themselves to move on until she was fully recovered. He did not want her to become ill again. Day by day, he awaited a response to the call for aid he had sent out the day of the Orc ambush. Whatever aid was coming would be here this day, he was promised. As Ifran slept in the early evening, Legolas looked up at the sound of hoof beats and cracking twigs. He stood and notched an arrow to his bow, aiming at the dense foliage before him. A few tense moments passed before Aragorn stepped forth, leading Hasufed alongside him  
"Legolas! We came as quickly as possible, but there were," he paused, as if lost in thought. "Delays."  
Gimli came behind him, muttering something about horses being used for transportation, how it wasn't natural for dwarves to use them, how high they were. Behind the two of them came Elf-riders from Rivendell, five dozen strong. Legolas' call had been answered.  
As the night wore on, Ifran awoke to find the Elf-riders, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas all by a large fire, talking amongst themselves. She stood and walked over to join them, sitting beside Legolas, who lightly embraced her with one arm.  
"Good to see you awake for once," he smiled.  
"It's good to be awake," Ifran replied.  
"Something else would be good," spoke up Gimli from the other side of the fire. "More firewood. We're running low."  
Ifran stood. "I will gather some, then." Legolas also stood. "You should have someone go with you. These woods are not to be trusted."  
"Will you stop worrying, Legolas?" Ifran snorted, taking a few steps towards the dense forest. "I won't stray far. I'll be fine."  
Legolas let her go, watching carefully as she stole into the trees.  
  
Ifran bent to pick up fallen limbs, muttering to herself, "Legolas is always worrying about me. Drives me crazy. I love him, but sometimes it's just too much."  
She stopped and stood up as a sound caught her ear. It came again, like a mix between a grunt and a wail. It sounded like a wounded creature. Ifran had a soft spot for animals, especially those that were injured or neglected. Following the noises closely, Ifran was soon far from earshot of those that remained at camp.  
The grunting stopped, and in the next second, Ifran was blinded and swept off her feet. Dropping the firewood, she screamed at the top of her lungs. That's when the stench caught her nose. The Orcs had caught her.  
"Legolas! Aragorn! Legolas!" she called loudly.  
"Enough!" a rough voice ordered as a heavy hand met her head. Ifran fell silent as darkness consumed her. 


	4. The Journey's End

An Elf-rider lifted his head as a faint cry touched his ears. His brow furrowed as he peered into the darkness, his keen vision parting through the trees to see a band of mounted Orcs galloping away from the camp. One of them carried Ifran in front of him.  
He leaped up and hurried over to Legolas and Aragorn, who were sitting side by side. Dropping to his knees, he told them what he had seen and heard. Legolas jumped up at the news, glaring down at the Elf-rider.  
"You are sure?" he asked tensely.  
The Elf-rider nodded with raised brows. "Yes. They are riding that way," he pointed.  
Aragorn and Legolas roused the others, but one of them, their leader, Erithod, stood and protested,  
"If what Haimelstir saw is true, then we are outnumbered, far outnumbered. We cannot possibly have any hopes of winning this battle!"  
Legolas strode over to him, his clear blue eyes blazing fury. "We cannot leave Ifran to endure torture and death! Not as long as breath still dwells within us! By not attempting to rescue her, we have already killed her!"  
Erithod, however, stood firmly to his opposition. Many were beginning to agree with him, and soon Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli were alone in their side. Finally, after much debate, Legolas erupted.  
"ENOUGH! We have wasted too much time as it is!" He leaped onto Quasar and galloped off, Aragorn and Gimli mounting Hasufed to follow. Erithod was stunned. He did not think Legolas would do that, nor Aragorn. His heart was moved as he turned and faced his comrades.  
"I was in the wrong! Mount your horses! Tonight, we hunt Orcs!"  
  
Legolas was already galloping furiously after the Orc band by the time Hasufed caught up with him. Hearing his hoof beats beside him, Legolas glanced over and gave a reassuring smile and nod of thanks and recognition. They swept around a bend in the trail and hurried on.  
Hearing more hoof beats behind, Legolas turned and looked back. Erithod and the rest of the Elf-riders had just come around the same bend and now followed the blonde Elf. Overjoyed, Legolas spurred Quasar on to full throttle, and the bay took off with a speed that no horse of man or Elf could match. His strides were long and fluid, and his black mane and tail streamed freely in the wind. As the company rode into the night, Legolas was sure they would find Ifran in time.  
  
At the same time, Ifran was sleeping fitfully on the hard ground of the Orc camp. While all was still, one Orc approached her and roughly kicked her stomach to rouse her.  
"Up, wench! Get up!"  
With a moan of pain, Ifran wearily staggered to her feet, the rough treatment and lack of sleep taking a toll upon her body. It was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling. The Orc was not satisfied as she nearly fell to the ground again.  
"Get up! You weakling of an Elf!"  
Again, Ifran stood, but as soon as she had her balance, she fell. Frustrated beyond reason, the Orc wielded his dagger.  
"You'll stay up now, she-Elf, or you'll feel this blade soon enough!"  
With what little strength she had, Ifran spat into his face. "Disgusting Orc!" she cried in defiance.  
The Orc roared and wiped off his face, and with the same motion, swept the dagger across her abdomen. It was the last move he ever made. An arrow came from the hill above and pierced his neck. With a strangled cry, he fell.  
War cries came from the hill as Legolas and his company swept down upon the Orc camp, swinging, hacking, stabbing, shooting, and killing. Ifran weakly stumbled off to the side, clutching her stomach in pain. The battle was short, but bloody. All Orcs had been killed, but fifteen Elf- riders had paid the price.  
Legolas looked around briefly for Ifran before finding her upon her back, grimacing in anguish. He leaped from Quasar and hurried to her side, looking down at the fatal wound. It was beyond anyone's help to heal. He had come too late.  
Tears streamed down his face as he held Ifran in his arms. The others watched in reverent silence from a distance. Ifran shivered, cold from the blood loss. Legolas held her closer. No words were exchanged, but there was no need for them. For a long while, even after Ifran's body had lain still and cold for much time, Legolas held her. At long last, he released her and gazed into the serene night sky, flooded with stars. The same stars they had watched in previous days had not changed, though so much already had down on Middle Earth.  
Ifran was given a proper burial before the prince of Mirkwood returned home. 


End file.
